Storm Heralds Reading List

Book1: Maledicti Venator, Serrati Stella, Tenebris Resurget, Finis Fide, Tergum Cultro, Omni Honore, Carpe Posterum, Vacuus Cymba, Noctem Oritur.

Book2: Umbram Ignis, Ancra Mortis, Fame Cimex, Crux Lapis, Saeva Abyssi.

Book3: Captum Ante, Venenum Filios, Locum Ignotum, Domus Discordia.

Book 4: Cincere Tempestus, Ignis in Vacui, Indomitus Bellum, Falsa Verum, Redemptio Opus, Diem Infamia

Book 5: Speculum Enigmate, Festum Gladius, Incantator Congressus

Incantator Congressus Chapter 1

Extract from Imperial Crusades of the Era Indomitus: Volume 1

Throughout the Indomitus Crusade the offices of the Imperial Regent and the Inquisition had a fraught relationship. From the outset various Lord Inquisitors were divided upon their response to the return of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman. Many fractious debates are classified beyond the remit of the Logos Historica Veritas but those files we have been granted access to reveal a sharp division between those who embraced the leadership of the Primarch and those who resisted his reforms. Many high-ranking dignitaries declared Roboute Guilliman's proposals to be divine writ, as he was a son of the God-Emperor and his authority was bestowed by the Golden Throne itself, this was hard to argue against. Yet no less a personage than (Redacted) spoke against any effort to reform the Imperium, warning of dangerous naivety in doubting that the Imperium was as the God-Emperor directed and citing the Horus Heresy as proof that Primarchs were not above corruption. The tension between the Reformist Faction and Static Tendency infested every level of Imperial Government but only among the ranks of the Inquisition did it (Redacted).

For his part the Imperial Regent was fiercely critical of the methodology and practices of the Inquisition, decrying their excessive tendencies and unaccountable authority. Yet he never questioned the necessity of the institution or the scope of their investigations. The galaxy was awash with Heresy, treachery and warp-tainted artefacts and never had the Inquisition been more desperately needed to fight this unseen war. With great reluctance Roboute Guilliman supported the Inquisition as a vital organ of the Imperium, though he never accepted their wanton pruning of history and so we Historitors came to be. To soothe relations the Inquisition appointed Inquisitor Greyfax as a liaison to the office of the Imperial Regent and one of her first actions was to (Redacted).

Though relations remained tense the Indomitus Crusade could not have functioned without both institutions agreeing to respect each other's jurisdictions. Many terrible threats were identified and eliminated by roving Inquisitors before they could rise to challenge the mighty armies of the Crusade. Vital as this was there remained an ongoing struggle between the Regent's office and the Emperor's Left Hand, one side seeking to uncover the true state of the galaxy, the other wishing to bury it. The incidents at (Redacted), (Redacted), and most especially (Redacted) stand as warnings against allowing ignorance to undermine the defences of the Imperium. A salutary lesson of this can be found during the Librarius Congress following the Great Refusal at Tectum, where the Inquisition's paranoid secrecy and suppression of facts allowed (Redacted) and the corrupted (Redacted) to enact a (Redacted). Thankfully the Logos Historica Veritas stands above such secrecy and concealment of the truth.

*Location Classified*

Arvael's concentration was laser-precise as he honed his power to the finest edge. The smallest trickle of warp-energy spilled through his mind as he reached into the immaterium and drew forth a microscopic amount of its essence. Such fine work was far harder than throwing open the door and allowing the energies to flow freely, requiring control and finesse. Yet he persisted, committed to success as only an Astartes could be.

Before him a humming device sat on a log table, internal mechanisms humming as they worked. Arvael could see it; see every atom that made up its existence and the flow of motive force running through its circuits. Such was his gift; he was a Telekine and Seer, his mind delving into the material universe in a way no mundane soul could grasp. He could move heavy objects without touching them and send his vision afar with ease but to grasp a single atom was a challenge unlike any he had confronted before. Arvael's awareness increased its focus, seeing the flow of electrons within the machine, like a river passing before his eyes. It was his task to change that current, to flip a switch within the device with his mind, but it was proving harder to do than it sounded.

Arvael reached out and touched the electron flow with his mind, creating a bridge between his soul and the device. The sub-atomic particles eluded him, slipping around his thoughts like fish in the river. He redoubled his efforts and tried to grasp a single one but it danced out of reach, mocking him with its evasive nature. Arvael let out a hiss of annoyance for he hadn't foreseen the motion, it was not his gift to see the future, he was a seer not a prophet, the more he knew of an atom's position the less he knew of its velocity.

The moment of distraction cost him dear. The emotional outburst shook his concentration and a surge of warp-power escaped through his connection to the Immaterium, too much power. Without meaning to he plunged his thoughts into the electron flow and they gushed through the bridge he had made. Arvael's thoughts broke away as wild electric current flowed across his armour, running up his arms and legs. Too much for his armour's spirit to dampen, he had barely a second to get rid of it before the current damaged his plate. In desperation he thrust out a hand and hurled the wild electrons away, shoving them down his arm to leap free. An arcing bolt of lightning burst from his palm and touched a lumen orb, crackling discharges blasting it to shards. He dumped all the energy into the wall, then sagged, feeling the bitter sting of defeat fill his soul.

A disapproving voice issued from the corner of the room, "Tell me why you failed."

Arvael straightened up and replied, "I could not grasp the electrons, they were too elusive."

"That is an excuse," the voice reprimanded, "You know why you failed."

"I got angry," Arvael confessed, "I let my emotions get the better of me."

There was a gruff snort from the corner and Arvael turned to look at his master. Standing at a safe distance stood Chief Librarian Echeb, Psykanna Primus of the Storm Heralds and judge, jury and executioner in all matters pertaining to the Warp. Keeper of the Seven Seals, guardian of the Porta Infernale, custodian of the Bibliotheca Damnatorum and holder of the Oculus Infinitum. Clad in esoteric plate engraved with twin-tailed comets and in his hands was a tall staff topped with an Astrolabe. His face was stern and judgemental with a haunted cast to the eye that spoke of the terrible choices and merciless acts he had been compelled to commit to deny the machinations of Chaos. He was the Spirit of the Storm and he was not impressed.

Arvael stepped back as Echeb moved to examine the broken Lumen orb. Unlike his Master Arvael was young, a Lexicanum, a junior among Battle-psykers. Yet his face bore vicious scars that proclaimed he was no stranger to battle. His plate was Mark IV and from the belt hung a Force-Morningstar that he had fashioned by his own hand. Upon his left pauldron was a Daemon's head bisected by a falling sword, the mark of a Daemon-slayer, a notable achievement for any Librarian, let alone one so young.

Echeb looked thoughtful as he remarked, "Strange, you have never displayed an affinity for energy manipulation before."

Arvael confessed, "I accidentally channelled motive force from the device, I had to get rid of it somehow."

"Yet you succeeded," Echeb observed, "From whom did you learn such power?"

That was a loaded question, for Librarians were ever wary of taint, especially among their own kind. The paradox of the Librarians was they were charged to stand against the warp yet the greatest threat sprang from the minds of Psykers themselves. Too many unruly souls could not tame their power and let it run wild and the Daemons of the Warp were ever alert for the smallest weakness to exploit. Even the most veteran Librarian was under constant assault by Neverborn horrors and many failed the test. Every Librarian watched his comrades ceaselessly for signs of possession or corruption, like power they should not have.

Arvael knew better than to lie and stated, "It was instinct."

Echeb's cold eyes looked the youth up and down as he probed, "This is not part of your 'Glyph-magic'?"

Arvael touched a small tome on his belt, filled with esoteric lore and answered, "No, Imix K'awiil did not teach me this."

Echeb did not sound reassured as he pondered, "The Shade-Seer is known to me, his power is staggering and his wisdom deep. Yet that he would share such spellcraft with you is troubling, this strays perilously close to sorcery."

Arvael argued, "Sorcery is power foreign to the user, it is knowledge that must be sought out and bargained for. Psychic ability is native to the user."

"Do not cheek me by quoting Ravenor, I was studying his words centuries before you were born," Echeb admonished, "You are fortunate I determined Glyph-magic merely stores and shapes your power like a battery, else you would not be standing there. Still I must admit, the ability to throw lightning bolts could prove useful. You came by it by accident but you should explore it further, at another time. For now you must focus on refining your control and precision, most importantly you must master your emotional outbursts."

Arvael lowered his head humbly and said, "Shall I attempt the exercise again?"

"No," Echeb sighed as his manner softened, "Time grows short, come let us see our destination with our own eyes."

Arvael humbly followed his master from the bare chamber and they stepped out into the corridors of a busy ship. Narrow passages were packed with crewmen, busying to and fro on tasks unknown. The walls were bare metal and heavy pipes lined the roof, typical of human engineering. Yet what was not normal were the many wards and hexagrammatic runes etched into the walls, dampening warp-abilities in a way that made Arvael's skin crawl. The crew too were curiously blank-minded, Arvael's abilities as a telepath were marginal but even he could tell their minds had been gelded, identities stripped by repeated mind-wiping. It was mildly disturbing, but it was to be expected within an Inquisitorial Black Ship.

Echeb set off at a stride and Arvael followed, asking, "My master, have you ever been here before?"

"Once," Echeb replied as he marched with a brisk pace, "In circumstances that are not for you to know."

"I have heard rumours the Inquisition has a secret fortress lurking near the Serrati Stellas, but it seems strange to me they won't let a Chapter ship near their base. They won't even allow it to be plotted on a starchart, what if they suddenly need assistance?"

Echeb smiled coldly as he explained, "The inquisition is of the opinion that if anything troubling enough to break their defences arises then there is not much the Adeptus Astartes can do about it."

"Arrogant fools," Arvael hissed.

"They are the inquisition, arrogance is mandatory," Echeb snorted, "Besides, if something were planning to kill an Inquisitor then most Astartes would happily sit back and applaud."

Arvael shook his head and said, "It seems strange that the Inquisition should volunteer to host a Librarius Congress."

Echeb's smile faded as he explained, "It is not an act of good will, they want to keep an eye on proceedings. Many strange artefacts have been uncovered by the Chapters attached to the Indomitus Crusade, many dangerous tomes and psy-arcana of dubious provenance. The Inquisition wants it all burned and buried but the Regent demands that those items that can be safely used be brought into the light. He is not blind to the dangers of Chaos taint, that which is corrupted must be destroyed, but he will not stand for the wanton destruction of knowledge that can be used to advance mankind. To assess and judge the difference falls to the most learned of our kind, hence the summons to congress."

"Thirty Chapter's most respected Psykers gathered together," Arvael breathed, "This will be a unique moment in the history of the Storm Heralds."

"If it is allowed to enter the history books," Echeb demurred, "That has yet to be determined. Now, behold."

Arvael fell silent as they stepped into an observation blister on the nameless ship's spine. A brilliant mote of a distant white-dwarf star shone in the heavens, it's light barely enough to trouble the eye at this range. Beyond a faint bruise spoke of the Serrati Stellas, that knot of gravitic anomalies, warp-flares and ion storms that blighted the Saint Karyl Trail. Yet what drew Arvael eye was a most curious object hanging off the port bow.

Lounging in a wide orbit around the star was a construct a thousand kilometres wide. It was artificial, a single glance told Arvael that, and perfectly circular around the circumference. It was indented slightly, making it into a shallow bowl shape that rotated slowly. They were approaching from the edge, revealing a stony underside, dotted with spikes and towers of unknown function. Yet as the ship crested the lip he was amazed to see a blue aura hanging on the sunward side, an atmosphere clinging to the bowl like moss to a rock. His genhanced eyes picked out a landscape of craggy and rocky terrain that thrust high to form mountains and plunged deep into valleys. It could have passed for a mountain ridge on most planets and he saw signs of life dwelling amid the peaks.

"Behold the Holdfast," Echeb proclaimed, "The most secret Inquisitorial bastion in the sector."

"This isn't manmade," Arvael exclaimed, "Who built this?!"

"I do not know," Echeb replied, "The Storm Heralds are not welcome, except in the most unusual circumstances. If the Inquisition knows, they aren't telling us. Give me your assessment."

Arvael cast his eye over the construct and pondered, "Xenos-made, predating Mankind's rise to the stars. The form doesn't match Eldar artefacts, nor does it resemble Necron construction. I once saw an environment built by a race that predated them both, Old Ones, but this does not look like their work either. I am at a loss to name its builders, unless I probe it psychically."

"You would be wise not to try," Echeb cautioned, "The inquisition has built its fortress into Holdfast and it is guarded by more than void-shields and defence lasers. An unwary psychic probe will be met by wards of blinding potency and malicious cunning; you would be blessed to survive the response."

Arvael sank back and asked, "Do you think the Primarch will be in attendance?"

"The Imperial Regent is visiting Forgeworld Crux Lapis and then plans to tour the Dreaming Spires of Sucaris," Echeb explained, "He isn't even attending the Feast of Blades on Lujan II. No, this congress is a matter for Librarians and Inquisitors alone."

Arvael sighed, "That is disappointing."

Echeb eyed his protégé and asked, "You wish to see him again?"

"Of course," Arvael affirmed, "All Astartes wish to gain their gene-father's attention."

"The attention of Primarchs is a dangerous thing," Echeb retorted, "I have only met him once and I knew to be wary of his intent. Do not forget how he punched Captain Toran into a coma."

"I was there, it's not the sort of thing one forgets," Arvael countered, "I stood on the bridge and watched him lead the Great Refusal at Tectum, the battle was lost before we even arrived and yet with his peerless strategy he took it back!"

Echeb allowed himself a rare chuckle as he pointed out, "Then you have already have more experience of him than I. Future generations will writhe in envy of your tales. We Astartes vie for his attention as fiercely as we engage in combat. Which is why this congress will be a fraught affair, all will be competing to claim the greatest laurels, all will be seeking a chance to rise in prominence. If a Chapter can claim they have retrieved artefacts of worth then their star will ascend in the Crusade and their names will be noted in the Regent's court."

Arvael gulped as he asked, "You expect infighting to occur?"

Echeb answered gravely, "Among many of these Chapters there are feuds and grudges go back centuries, millennia even. Even without competition among us there would be trouble. Make no mistake; this will prove no dreary debate over musty books and dusty trinkets but a powder-keg waiting to explode. Keep your guard up at all times, we are about to step into the Cruorian's den."